


down for your love

by pulses



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Choi Soobin-Centric, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulses/pseuds/pulses
Summary: When you are twenty years old and recording your very first album, there are things you learn to live with, things you have to carry.Soobin had taught himself to bear that weight, but even the sturdiest ship has its cracks. A wave high enough will still crash onto the decks, seep through the splinters and overcome.Or: Changmin is kind and handsome, and Soobin is pretty sure he doesn't know what he's doing.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Ji Changmin | Q
Comments: 60
Kudos: 185





	down for your love

**Author's Note:**

> hello <3 if you have ventured onto this page then please note that this is 100% completely just for fun and specifically tailored to an audience of 3. i know my timing is kind of terrible but embarrassingly enough this measly 6k fic has been a labor of love for around a month now… i've been charmed by the idea of this pairing for a while and wanted to explore their purely hypothetical dynamic in some capacity!! (it’s also around 50% chwesoobin character study, as is my curse when writing terribad fanfiction….)
> 
> a special thanks to f + s + t for encouraging me through this process, i literally don’t deserve you guys <33 one day i will stop with the crossovers and write actual txt fic (or the txtcravity tinhats that no one cares about) ^__^

Soobin likes his job as Music Bank MC. 

Really, he does. He likes having his own dressing room and being greeted by rookie groups in the KBS hallways. He likes commiserating over live slip-ups with Yewon backstage, likes being told by his manager that he seems more open these days, less fraught with jittery predebut tension.

Still, there’s something about the long hours that get to him. When everything has become one long blur of dance practices and photoshoots and non-existent weekends that pass by without a moment’s notice, Fridays aren’t exactly a significant benchmark for idols. Now, though, Soobin wakes up every Friday and frantically reads over his script in front of the bathroom mirror. He checks his hair and runs a frustrated hand through his bangs that won’t lie flat the way he wants them to, occasionally shovels down a bowl of Kai’s cereal while the other boy sleeps in, and is unceremoniously rushed into a company car by 9 o’clock, sharp. Yeouido always takes at least an hour from Gangnam, even more when they get caught in the morning rush. The best Soobin can do is lean back and try to get some extra shut eye. 

It’s always a little different in the car, is all. When it’s just him and the manager. No Beomgyu to slap at the skin of his arm, so fast and frenetic he barely has the time to feel it sting; no Kai to crack jokes on their early-dawn drives to faraway music video shoots that keep Soobin blearily holding onto consciousness. No Yeonjun grumbling for them to quiet down from the front seat, or Taehyun leaning against the blackout curtains, giggling under his breath at their antics.

Today, as with every Friday, it’s just him. Soobin has his mask tucked below his chin and lets his mind drift—thinks about his outfit for the day, a tweed suit he hasn’t actually seen in person yet. How they have to film Weekly Idol soon. The brutal dance practice scheduled for tomorrow morning, how he wants to have braised seafood delivered tonight, and then the tub of ice cream waiting for him in the freezer.

A blur of yellow materializes on his screen, and Soobin draws in an unbidden breath. 

It’s always the yellow he sees first. The yellow icon before anything else, and then the name atop the notification banner. This time it reads _changmin-hyung_.

His eyes wander nervously over the message. All it says is: _are you already on your way to mubank? :)_ , but he finds himself straightening up anyway, drawing his phone closer to his chest.

 _yep ㅜㅜ_ , he sends back, fingers flitting across the keyboard.

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`we’re on our way too, just going for prerecording  
i’ll see you there?` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`sounds good~` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
`🥰`

Soobin fights back a smile. He doesn’t really use emojis, but Changmin does, liberally so. It can never just be _hey, what are you doing?_ Instead he likes to sprinkle in a carefully selected smiley face, or hearts of various colors. 

` **soobinie:** `  
_`is this your last week of promotions?` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`nope, we have one more ^^  
and then we’re doing one week of whiplash  
when is your album coming out again???` _

Their conversations usually start like that. Meaningless check-ins, just letting each other secure their footing. Then Soobin will say something along the lines of _2 more weeks ㅜㅜㅜ_ and detail a practice room episode from a few days ago. Before he knows it, they’ve been exchanging messages for the entire car ride.

“We’re here,” his manager says. 

Soobin’s eyes snap up, a little dazed. The car has stopped, he realizes. In fact, he can suddenly hear the loud hollering of fans from beyond the glass, a muffled cacophony folding against the windows, and he wonders how it hadn’t registered before.

Soobin looks down at the long trail of messages from the past twenty minutes. How they’d gone from discussing their comeback preparations to talking about the Harry Potter movie Soobin had been roped into rewatching last week—when he hadn’t understood some inane reference that still made no sense to him—to exchanging recent favorite songs and what they’d do if they were ever allowed to go home for Chuseok.

 _Huh,_ he thinks.

“Thank you,” Soobin says, pocketing his phone. His manager gets out first, makes his way around to usher him out. It’s October now, and a mild chill hits him the moment the door opens, seeps in and chills him even through his bomber jacket.

Soobin squares his shoulders and steps out.

The story of their first meeting doesn’t actually start here. 

Here, as in the partitioned waiting area for up-and-coming Cre.ker Entertainment boy group _The Boyz_ , who have a comeback interview scheduled for five hours.

What this is, though: the first meeting that actually matters. The first time Soobin really _notices._ In the end, what starts it all.

Soobin has seen Changmin in passing before. Mainly in liminal corners of award show backstages, or in the awkward spaces between those overly-ornate audience tables—where they’re sort of allowed to acknowledge other groups but try not to, instead opting to play flip-the-bottle while fansites catalog their every moment. Their promotions don’t really overlap, and Soobin has only exchanged meaningless formalities with them. Always, _Hello, we’re Tomorrow by Together!_ Just that much of a long-winded mouthful that has their greeting’s recipient wondering at their tedious naming. When he’d been asked by Daehwi whether he wanted to join his 00 group chat with some of their members, Soobin had said no.

Looking back, maybe that hadn’t been the best decision. 

Soobin is _trying_ , honestly, to be more open about meeting new people. 

It’s just that sometimes, certain people draw his interest faster than others. 

When Soobin feels, it is loud and immediate, almost all-encompassing. He is willing to work when he knows it will pay off. It’s why he’s never been able to resist doting on Kai: not when Kai was fifteen and standing in their old Bighit practice room wearing his Mickey Mouse shirt for the first time, and not now, either, when he is nineteen and just a little bit overgrown, lying down on Soobin with an easy smile and an aegyo-soaked taunt as he knocks the breath out of him.

When Soobin doesn’t feel, though, it’s a flatline. Ice that has thickened and smoothed over. A slate offering nothing.

Today it’s, _Best we The Boyz! Hello, we’re The Boyz!_ , eleven voices elevating a raucous cacophony. Soobin meets Changmin for the first time during their green room rehearsal, which goes smoothly, and they giggle over the _Music, Cue_ pun together. Later on he’ll find himself in the The Boyz waiting area, perched carefully by the makeup table and bowing to the entire group, exchanging brief greetings with Eric and Sunwoo out of a sense of obligation. Changmin will greet him, say that it’s nice to meet him, say, _No matter how many times we practice, the real interview is always so nerve-wracking._ Soobin will commiserate.

But: the first time he meets Changmin. 

The first time, in the makeshift interview room, the first time he honest-to-god sees Changmin smile up at him with those effortlessly friendly eyes, that deep brown that feels never-ending.

The first time, a part of Soobin just knows.

“I really like your new song,” Soobin tells him after. “And I watched your Road to Kingdom performances, too.”

“Ah, really?” Changmin asks. He’s still holding onto his interview script. He looks a little flustered, but his smile is warm and pleased. Beside them some The Boyz members are milling around, having their hair sprayed by stylists or conversing amongst themselves. One of them—New, he thinks, but they hadn’t interviewed together—eyes them a little curiously, saying nothing. 

“Yeah, you looked really cool,” Soobin blurts, and a part of him wonders whether he should shut up. It’s like there’s a disconnect between his mind and his mouth, and he’s letting the side of him that actually tries to socialize with other human beings take charge. “Like… you know, wow. I don’t think I could ever dance like that.”

Changmin laughs, seemingly charmed. He doesn’t look like the kind of person capable of faking a smile like that, and Soobin instantly likes him more for it.

“Thanks,” Changmin says this time. “That means a lot. I, uh, really like your songs too.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck. “I actually have Run Away on my playlist...”

He says the full title, drawn out in all of its glorious 16 syllables, and only looks like it pains him a little. Soobin is touched, because he doesn’t even bother when he’s off-camera, and he wonders what his face looks right now. 

He looks at the mirror and immediately wishes he hadn’t. 

“Really?” Soobin continues, intrigued. “Do you listen to a lot of idol songs?”

“Yeah! I really like learning idol dances. Actually, I could, uh, probably dance any song if you asked me to right now. Well,” he looks around, suddenly conscious of how little space they’re operating within, and huffs a laugh. “Maybe not here. But some other time.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Soobin says, drawing himself up. The thing is, he remembers watching their Heroine performance for the first time, lying down on his bottom bunk, phone tucked right in front of his face. How he’d felt strangely bereft by it. That smooth unraveling of Changmin’s dance line; the expressiveness held in the throat of every beat.

He kind of wants to ask whether he would want to step out for a bit, but in that instant someone taps politely on his arm, a gentle one-two motion. Soobin turns around to see a Music Bank staff member motioning at him with her free hand, lips pursed and clipboard tucked in the crook of one arm.

“Sorry,” she says, trying for vaguely apologetic and mostly just sounding scolding. Soobin is, after all, not really supposed to leave his dressing room for this long. “We need you back. You’ve got your rehearsal with Stray Kids now.”

Soobin blinks. “Oh, right. Uh, sorry. Give me a second?” 

He turns to Changmin, who just smiles at him. Soobin tries to formulate some quick apology—wants to offer a placating farewell, one that masks the disappointed feeling in his stomach that he refuses to dwell on. But Changmin circles two fingers around his wrist, just a ghosting touch, before the words can even form.

“Hey, before you go.” Changmin gives his phone a little shake. “What’s your Katalk ID?”

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`soobin-ah  
it was nice to officially meet you!!` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`you too, hyung  
thanks for saying that you like our music ^__^` _

Back then, he hadn’t known how to say, _you seem like a good person_. But he’d felt it deep down, and that mattered enough.

Weeks later, the week Soobin has to wear the tweed jacket with its stuffy collar, he finds himself busy with a script review session while Changmin prerecords his own stage. This means that it isn’t until lunchtime that he finally sees a flash of dark hair pop through his dressing room door. 

One time, the two of them had stolen a quick conversation in the hallway after a live show when Soobin and Yewon were still taking their broadcast-mandated selfies. Her eyebrows had raised to her hairline watching him stutter and stumble awkwardly beside her.

Now, thankfully, it’s just them.

“Hyung!” Soobin exclaims. He stands up and smoothes down the wrinkles of his oversized white tee, not having changed yet, and then recognizes a lost cause when he sees one.

“Soobin,” Changmin calls out, satisfied. “Have you been here long?”

“Nope, we got here like ten minutes ago. Did you want to walk for a bit?” 

There is a subtlety to these walks—an art—that Soobin has slowly honed. He understands what is and isn’t allowed when talking to your sunbae in spaces dozens of people can see, where watchful eyes track your every movement.

Soobin has had, of course, old friends ask him whether it was common for idols to sneak backstage for a quick “meetup,” the emphasis on the word always heavy and knowing. Or worse, even, whether the Inkigayo sandwiches were actually a _thing._

But in these KBS hallways, Soobin only has mild pleasantries. Their hands don’t stray where they aren’t supposed to. There are no storage rooms to hide away within, and anyway—even if there were, Soobin isn’t that kind of person.

“I think Chanhee is looking for me,” Changmin will have to say eventually. Or, Soobin: “I think I have to go to rehearsals now.” I think, I think, everything quantified in minutes, moments.

The day they record their MCountdown comeback stage, Soobin is busy trying to distract Kai from his millionth mobile game obsession when he sees him. Standing in the doorway like he always does, a familiar face even in the unfamiliarity of its context.

“Hey,” he says, with a small wave. “I just wanted to say hi before I left.”

“Ah, right! Your Whiplash stage?”

“Yep,” he says, drawing out the syllable. Then it’s as if he suddenly notices the rest of the members beside him, Kai still half-buried under Soobin’s arms, Taehyun on the other side of the couch eyeing him with blatant interest.

“Guys, this is, uh, Changmin-hyung,” Soobin says, visibly trying not to cough.

 _“Soobin-hyung has friends?”_ Kai whispers, except his whisper is at least 100 decibels, so Soobin eases off him and elbows him meaningfully in the side. Kai chokes and doubles over, whining.

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyun says, which has Changmin nodding again in greeting.

And that’s that. 

Except for how after he leaves, Taehyun turns to Soobin and narrows his eyes, opens his mouth, closes it. Then he exchanges what seems to be an entire hour’s worth of dialogue with Kai through eyebrow theatrics alone.

“Huh,” he says.

Soobin’s ears burn, but he says nothing.

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`i have a joke for you  
what shirt do i like wearing the most?  
kyu-tee~ ^.~ ♡  
haha get it???` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`wow  
that was genuinely terrible` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`ummm  
i’d like to see you try!!!` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`ok fine  
what do you call a deer with perfect eyesight?  
a good EYE-DEER ㅎㅎㅎ` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`…  
………………  
wowwwwwwww  
as expected, you don’t have even half of my sense ^__^` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`whatever makes you feel better, hyung~` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`ㅋㅋ you’re cute` _

When their comeback preparations are coming to a close, Sungdeuk walks in for an evaluation and tells them that they’re officially ready. 

“Keep up the tension on the couple dance and you’re good to go,” he says, approving. They all collapse to the floor in a heap, sweaty and exhausted. 

“Thank _god_ ,” Yeonjun says. He gets up to tear open a cup of ramen, and Kai stumbles after him, grin wide and bright.

Even through the sheer relief, though, Soobin feels strangely heavy. He’s been unusually preoccupied these past few weeks, his head spinning with thoughts he hasn’t grappled with since debut.

“Hey, you okay?” Beomgyu says from next to him.

“Huh?” 

“You’re spacing out, hyung,” Beomgyu laughs. “Wanna talk about it?”

Soobin frowns and shakes himself. Turning away from where he’d been boring holes in the mirror, he runs a tired hand through his hair and sighs.

“Sorry, I—just. It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

Maybe that’s a lie, but Soobin knows that there’s nothing he can say. 

Because if he were to really dig down, dig deep and find himself right at the root of it, it would go like this:

Soobin is only twenty-one. He was never offered a guidebook on liking other guys, let alone other male celebrities. Let alone the ones who showed interest back.

Of course, he’s _known_ since he was thirteen. Not because of any isolated incident, or thanks to any one person, but as a culmination of his being, of too many signs that were impossible to ignore. Just a truth washing over him. Something that kept slipping and slipping past his outstretched fingers until he finally learned to hold on, to clench that fist and bring it closer, stare it right in the eye. 

It will tell you things you didn’t want to know about yourself. Not then—not when you’re thirteen and wearing braces for the first time, legs too long for someone with no coordination. 

But Soobin knows, has known. And yet that knowing, drawing that truth in the sand, letting seafoam smooth it over and push it out of mind, doesn’t ease what comes after.

When you are twenty years old and recording your very first album, there are things you learn to live with, things you have to carry.

Soobin had taught himself to bear that weight, but even the sturdiest ship has its cracks. A wave high enough will still crash onto the decks, seep through the splinters and overcome.

So, once again, he doesn’t know how to say any of that. Beomgyu, for all that his heart beats bleeding red and romantic, a lover of those who endure, of the truth of two people, wouldn’t know what to tell him.

“Okay, I got it,” Beomgyu says instead, breezy as ever. He nudges at where Soobin sits cross-legged with the side of foot. “Want me to make you some ramen?”

Some of the things Soobin likes about Changmin: 

The emojis he uses. How he sticker-spams and then sends another sticker that apologizes for it. How he links Soobin indie ballads with overly poetic lyrics at 4am, the ones that rip out every heartstring with no remorse, tells him that they somehow remind him of them. How he doesn’t mind when the hours lapse between their messages, understands that they’re both in the thick of promotions or award show preparations, but remembers to send off a goodnight text every night, anyway. How Soobin is used to shrinking in on himself, letting his shoulders curl in to make himself seem smaller, but he still finds himself looking a ways down to meet eye-to-eye with him. 

How Changmin genuinely loves dancing. Down to the bone, the marrow. _If I could live just by dancing, I would,_ he’ll say. Soobin likes the videos Changmin sends him from his practice room, that wild glint in his eye when he covers a new song, his lithe figure embodying a feeling Soobin has only ever glimpsed in flashes.

When Soobin sends him selfies, Changmin will say _pretty_ until Soobin pouts and asks, _is that it?_ His favorite sticker to send in response is a bunny character that clutches its chest and falls dramatically to the ground, seemingly overcome by Soobin’s beauty.

 _ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ_ , Soobin concedes. _thanks <3_

It is the most simple thing in the world to be understood. But in the end, when all superfluous notions are done away with, the simple pieces are what you are left with. 

Soobin doesn’t take that for granted. During their first meeting, and then their next, once more in the KBS hallways, Soobin fumbling through small talk with some other members, Changmin had already seen, understood.

 _you seemed awkward with eric earlier ㅋㅋㅋ,_ he’d messaged him when Soobin was leaning back against the car seat, body sagging from exhaustion. He still had a late-night dance practice later, and it would be a miracle if he got more than four hours of sleep tonight.

` **soobinie:** `  
_`honestly speaking?  
sometimes it’s easier with older guys` _

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`how come?` _

Soobin hadn’t known how to explain it. How Soobin likes being doted on—and likes doting on others in equal measure—but how people his own age have never seemed to understand him the same. He’d felt perpetually on the fringes in Class 1-4, tall and gangly and awkward, unable to tell anyone the reason he spent long hours away from school, skirting yaja and getting poor grades and being a no-show for sports day. 

After Bang PD had told him that he’d made the debut group, no tears were shed when Soobin officially dropped out of school. All he is left with from that time are the long hours spent arguing with his mother over video call, the line of her mouth doubtful and worried. Then the day after, vowing to himself that he would work harder than ever, eyes battling sleep where he and Kai lay sprawled on the floor. Kai had told him, _it’ll be okay, hyung,_ and he and Beomgyu had started grabbing lunch together while the other three were at school, and he remembers feeling mutedly grateful that he had them, these dongsaengs willing to look out for him in all of his weariness.

With Changmin, his fingers had hovered over his keyboard, considering.

_you take good care of me, hyung._

Wasn’t that enough?

A week into promotions, Soobin is back at the dorm and tired in every sense of the word. He’s finished brushing his teeth and pulls at the handle of his bedroom door, ready to pass out the moment his head hits the pillow.

Of course, it’s locked. 

“Choi Beomgyu!” he yells against the white frame. “Why do you keep doing this!” 

He bangs one fist on the door, then the other.

Of course, there’s no response.

Soobin has already been having kind of a terrible day, but it’s completely fine, he tells himself. He’ll just sleep in Kai and Taehyun’s room for the night and turn off his brain, hopefully permanently, and tomorrow he will be absolutely _fine._

When he cracks open the door to their room, he sees that Kai is already sprawled out on his bed, probably about to fall asleep. 

“Hueningie,” Soobin whispers. 

Kai sits up at the sound of his name being called and rubs at one eye. 

“Huh?” he mumbles. “Hyung, did you get locked out _again_?”

Soobin sighs in affirmation, moving to lie down on the floor. Before he can do so, though, Kai ungracefully tumbles out of bed, dragging his blanket and plushies with him.

“Here,” he says, making himself comfortable first. He gently unfolds his blanket and offers Soobin a spot next to him. This close, Soobin can tell that he’s barely on the verge of consciousness. His pajamas are rumpled and his hair falls messily into his lidded eyes, and he blearily watches as Soobin slides in before throwing the blanket back over them. A few feet away, Taehyun’s soft, even breathing sounds throughout the room.

“Good night,” Soobin whispers.

“Wait,” Kai says suddenly, scrambling up a little. He leans on one elbow so that he has some leverage over him. “Hyung.”

In the deep of the night, their eyes meet. Soobin can feel a strange urgency in his gaze. Something tender and hesitant, as if he’s been sitting on it for a while.

Soobin sits up with a soft groan.

“Yes?” he asks gently.

“You know…” Kai starts. His eyes are already drooping again, but he sounds determined to see this through to the end. “I just… I’ve been meaning to tell you this. I just wanted to know… I just—hyung. I hope that you’re happy.”

“I—” Soobin interjects, startled.

“Because you deserve to be. And I also hope that you know what you’re doing.”

Soobin stares at him. A million responses run through his mind, mostly ones of disbelief, but he’s already too late. In predictable fashion, Kai tucks his head by Soobin’s shoulder and promptly falls asleep. 

Soobin knows that Kai won’t remember saying any of this in the morning, so he lets out a small, enervated sigh and lies back down. With one hand he digs around and rips out a plushie half-buried under the bulk of Kai’s side before wrapping his arms around it dejectedly. He’d thought that coming here would help quiet his mind, but now it races faster than ever.

Soobin isn’t stupid, and he knows exactly what Kai is trying to tell him. The thing is, though, he _isn’t_ sure he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t know whether this happiness is something to be deserved, whether any shape of happy is even allowed. He’d been taught, somewhere along the way—shown by way of the industry—that happiness was meant to be carved of predetermined circumstance. That you were dealt the cards first and forced to bluff if they weren’t to your liking.

Next to him, Kai sleeps in long and even breathes. He’s doing the thing where he whistles through his nose, and Soobin laughs a little bit at how he looks curled up right next to Soobin’s ear.

“Goodnight,” he says to the darkness. An indistinct ceiling blinks back at him, swallowed by the still of the night. Says nothing back, just lets him lie with that silence, the voice in his head.

 _I have no idea what I’m doing,_ he says to himself. _Dear god._

Of the five of them, Kai is the only one with a younger sibling. It makes sense, then, that his selflessness is so inherent: he had already attuned himself to the weight of responsibility when Soobin was only just beginning to understand it.

The Choi Soobin of Ansan, the boy Soobin had been before Bighit Entertainment—before Tomorrow X Together was even a name being considered, before he’d stood on stage for the very first time, legs shaking and eyes fighting back tears—had not learned the art of self-preservation yet.

Soobin grew up pampered and skittish in ways his siblings didn't. When he was younger, his sister would dress him in egg-yolk yellow overalls and hold his chubby hand to the playground at the foot of their apartment complex. She’d sit him in the swing seat and watch him for what felt like hours. This arcing motion, the push, pull, push, pull, _push._

He’d let himself fly to the very apex, up up up, tell himself he’d get off then, but he never did. No matter what, he always waited for the downswing. When he jumped onto the padded tiles and let the fractured debris stick to his palms, he would wave his arms at her with all the strength of a loved child, still wobbly and eager on his growing legs. _Good job,_ she’d say. He hadn’t known anything back then.

Soobin’s sister will be thirty-two soon. She lives with her husband outside of Seoul, and he hasn’t seen her all year.

Soobin isn’t that Choi Soobin of Ansan now, and he’s been forced off the apex more times than he can count. He knows that everything he does reflects on more than just him, and he isn’t free to fall whenever he wants to anymore. There is a schedule, an order, an expectation for everything.

That, _I hope you know what you’re doing,_ spoken from a barely-conscious mouth on a sleepless night, lives deep within him.

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
_`kyaaa congrats on finishing promotions!!!` _

` **soobinie:** `  
_`thank you ㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜ  
and happy birthday, hyung` _ ` 🥳  
even if i don’t say it here, i hope you know by now  
what i really mean  
❤`

` **changmin-hyung:** `  
`❤`

On a wind-battered evening in November, Taehyun tugs at Soobin’s sleeve after dinner and invites him on a digestion walk. Kang Taehyun, age nineteen, usually digests by sitting upright at his computer desk—the one that Kai had bought for dirt-cheap and shoved up against their bedroom wall—and wordlessly scrolling through bad memes for an hour. This means that Soobin knows exactly what he is getting himself into when he hears this. 

At risk of the night ending in tears, he agrees. 

“Sure. Let me go grab my coat.”

They walk along a cobblestone path by their building complex, hands in their pockets as they shiver at the unexpected autumn chill.

“I feel like you’ve been troubled with something for a long time,” Taehyun tells him. His long padding is zipped up past his chin, just up to his cheekbones, and the visible stretch of skin glows rosy under the amber lamplight.

“Well,” Soobin starts, then stops. He has nothing to say to that. Nothing that will sound respectable to a person like Kang Taehyun.

“I know that you have things you need to work through, sometimes. And I know that you go through rough patches and sometimes you’re not ready to talk to us about it. I don’t want you to think that as our leader, you’re not allowed to be having a hard time ever, or anything.”

“Of course I know that.” He reaches to pinch at Taehyun’s cheek, but an alert hand immediately swats him away.

“Good, that’s good. But I feel like there’s been something eating at you these days. Or is this about someone?” He pauses meaningfully, as if just to watch Soobin squirm. “Either way, I just… hope you know you can tell me about these things if you need to. Or any of us. But I’m here, and I’m listening.”

Soobin sighs, feeling his shoulders sag. “It’s stupid, honestly.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s messing you up like this, hyung.”

“Can you please just say it so we can get it out of the way?” Soobin says, laughing a little. “I know you already know.”

Taehyun stares at him, just that moment too long, and draws in a deep breath. “It’s not fun if you make me do everything, hyung. But fine. Are you dating Changmin-sunbaenim?”

His first instinct is: _Maybe._ Then, _I guess?_

Then, _Yeah, I think so._

That’s when the first tear springs to his eye, unsolicited in every way. Taehyun gets flustered whenever Soobin cries on him, but he invites him on these walks anyway, so—really, this is all his fault.

“I don’t even remember what I said to him the first time we met,” Soobin confides in him later, groaning. He buries his face behind his fingers, the ones Taehyun so often complains are freakishly long, and what did they even _feed_ you, the hell? “I think I’ll actually die if I think about it.”

“Come on, hyung." Taehyun rolls his eyes and pats his shoulder placatingly. “If he’s still talking to you, I’m sure your unimaginable awkwardness is actually part of the charm.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to try so hard to be all… smooth and suave, you know? You look out for people who can see eye-to-eye with you and understand your quirks. You used to get so embarrassed around us when you’d cry or when you’d mess up during dance practice and turn like, _super_ red when the instructors scolded you. And now you’ve, well, I guess almost mellowed out.”

“Wow,” Soobin intones. “Touching.”

“It’s a good thing. I mean it.”

“Ugh, Taehyun. Kai asked me earlier, whether I knew what I was doing.”

“I know. I was awake,” he says, because of course he was. “Well, do you?”

“Uh.” Soobin gestures to his tear-stained cheeks. “Not really.”

Taehyun is sincere almost to a fault, even when the truth is fastened from barbed wire, sharp and stinging, something that surrounds you in every corner and presses you in.

So when he says, “That’s fine. I think we’re going to be okay, hyung,” Soobin actually wants to believe him. 

(This time Taehyun doesn’t say: _don’t fuck this up._ But with him, Soobin feels like it’s one of those things that kind of go without saying.)

` **soobinie:** `  
_`would it be irresponsible if i asked you to come over?` _

It all comes to a head on his rest day, when Soobin is miraculously granted a few hours to himself at the dorms. The members are either at the company or busy filming a variety show. Soobin entertains himself by rolling around in bed, taking twenty selfies that he promptly deletes. He looks bloated, he thinks regretfully, and he wedges his phone beneath his pillow with a sigh.

It’s here, face-first and feeling restless, that the thought first forms. A reckless, selfish thought. The one that seeds the message.

Meeting up had always been out of the question before. Soobin is either at the company or with the other members, and Changmin lives with too many people. They’ve only had those stolen moments outside dressing rooms, KKT messages back and forth in the dark, Soobin in hushed voices on the phone while he heard Changmin’s roommates make a fuss in the background, heard the ringing call of “Yah, Kim Sunwoo!” more times than he could count.

“I probably shouldn’t be here,” Changmin says. He’s drowning in an oversized blue hoodie, the strings tied up in a little bow by the collar, bangs obscuring most of his face. At least he has the decency to be sheepish. 

“Probably not,” Soobin agrees. 

But honestly, he finds that he doesn’t care. The reality is that his lapse of judgment runs wider than he’d thought, and it’s worth it to have Changmin like this: mask pulled just under his chin, dimple poking out, smile mirroring his own.

More than anything, Soobin is overcome with the truth of them.

“I’m glad you are,” he says this time. Both of them grinning at each other, with finality.

Later, Changmin kisses him against the door of his room. Slow at first, just a lingering press of the lips, and then deeper, more insistent. Neither of them mentions how Changmin’s heels have to lift just a little. The dig of his fingers in the small of Soobin’s waist makes him feel like live wire, like something fragile and exposed and threatening to spark on the spot.

Changmin is a dancer at heart, and the precision of his character shows at times like this, when his focus is turned on one task and he will stop at nothing to properly execute it. 

He doesn’t look anything like he does on stage. Not with his hair limp and ruffled, eyes bare. But there’s still something hungry lingering underneath, and it’s an intensity that had drawn Soobin in even before they knew each other.

“Hyung,” Soobin says, a touch reverent, out of breath.

“Hm?” Changmin mumbles. They’ve found their way to Soobin’s bed, and Soobin rubs soft circles into the skin of his palm, humming under his breath.

“Just, you know. Thank you.”

Changmin nuzzles the smooth expanse of his neck, then pulls up to press his lips against the corner of his mouth, smiling. “Mmm. Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?” he asks, and then he leans back in again.

All this time, Changmin has seen him, understood. They were molded out of similar expectations. They knew what restraint meant to them—not an act of cowardice, but a means of survival. A year ago Soobin was standing on stage accepting a Rookie of the Year award. He was told his path would be long and arduous, but that it was paved with endless possibilities, that with good intention he could carve his own way. 

He and Changmin have both borne their own troubles, seen them through to the end.

Now it’s 2020 and he has him in his bed. Both of them lie down shoulder to shoulder, fingers intertwined, hearts pulsing against the skin.

They’ve never needed declarations. This, here, will have to be enough. 

“It’s not a crime to have friends,” Soobin had once justified to him. Weeks ago, a little wildly, with that reckless touch only Changmin imbued in him. 

They’d both known what they were really trying to say.

“I think—” Soobin says this time. The words are there, in his throat. On the tip of his tongue.

“I know.”

“Yeah?” 

“‘Even if I don’t say it, I hope you know?’” Changmin quotes.

Soobin closes his eyes, but he can still hear the smile lingering in Changmin's voice, revels in the teasing edge to it.

“Yeah,” he admits.

Changmin giggles next to him. “Soobin-ah, it’s okay,” he says. Soobin feels fingers caress at his jawline, feels Changmin’s lips press another kiss to his, soft puffs of breath fanning over his face.

Three simple words, spoken into the shell of his ear. That’s all they are. A secret pressed into skin, lingering like an echo. 

Soobin turns into his arms and breathes it back.

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic comes from the boyz - reveal, but this is really [the video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPVFFjC6Hd0) that got me through the entire writing process, so i thought i would post it here ♡ thanks for reading!


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